


Come Fuck Me Hips

by AgentStannerShipper



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, PWP, Rough Sex, crowley just really wants to be fucked
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 16:41:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19066555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentStannerShipper/pseuds/AgentStannerShipper
Summary: Crowley has had a fantasy about Aziraphale for centuries now. Too bad the angel would never take him up on it.Except, as it turns out, he absolutely would.





	Come Fuck Me Hips

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a direct reaction to Crowley's, as I've decided to call them, "come fuck me hips" in the Good Omens tv show, and also to the couple of people who encouraged me to write about it. So here you go. Have some pure, filthy smut. Hope you like it.

Crowley threw himself down onto his bed with a groan of frustration. He was making things difficult for himself and he knew it, but really, it wasn’t like he could just walk up to Aziraphale and say, “I’ve been in love with you for centuries, please let me pin you against the nearest flat surface so we can shag like no eternal beings have ever shagged before.” Aziraphale would _not_ take kindly to that, and Crowley wasn’t in the mood for a decade without the angel speaking to him.

He idly flipped over onto his stomach, squirming in an attempt to get comfortable. Silk sheets were soft and all, but there wasn’t much traction, and he slid a bit without managing to get a grip. He gave up and rested his chin on his arms, amending his previous thought. As much as Crowley liked to pretend he was the large and in charge one, it wasn’t him pinning Aziraphale that he really wanted. There was something desperately appealing about the idea of seeing Aziraphale lose it, of all that angelic power unravelling from the comfortable body it was wrapped in and just letting go. He had already been vaguely turned on, but something inside him reacted to the image, glowing white hot and then centring between his legs. Crowley whined, pressing his cheek into the mattress and rutting his hips against the silk without any luck. He pictured Aziraphale’s hand closing around the back of his neck and moaned at the idea of being blanketed by the angle’s heavy form, held down against the bed and kept there while something hot and hard pressed into his arse. His cock ached, ready to burst from his skin-tight leather trousers, but Crowley was too turned on to have any sort of dexterity, too horny to miracle them away. As it was, he flailed a hand out for a pillow and thrust it between his legs, face red with embarrassment, forearms shaking as he braced himself to hump against it, giving his cock the friction he needed. Crowley came to the thought of Aziraphale’s hands digging bruises into his hips as the angel ploughed his arse, and he came embarrassingly fast and hard enough to see stars.

He slumped against the bed, shoving the pillow away and groaning, his cheeks still flushed with shame. It was a decidedly undemonic trait to want to have his arse reamed by an angel, but Crowley couldn’t help it. There was something so… _innocent_ about Aziraphale, even more so than angels were supposed to appear innocent, and the thought that such soft naivete could be hiding something rough and dirty just did it for Crowley in ways he couldn’t explain.

It didn’t matter. Aziraphale was his friend – barely, given that the angel was prone to fits of righteous indignation when he was afraid his actions were getting too close to challenging Heaven’s plan – and as far as Crowley could tell, Aziraphale was not interested. Crowley had done plenty of hip swaying and arse shaking in the angel’s direction (at appropriate moments, of course), but Aziraphale had never taken the hint, or if he had, he’d never said a word. For someone who had suggested ingesting aphrodisiacs at a gay bar in what amounted to a first date – _not_ that Crowley believed oysters were aphrodisiacs, _not_ that he’d ever call it a date – the angel remained infuriatingly out of reach.

With some effort, Crowley flipped onto his back again and stared up at the ceiling with a put-out sigh. The orgasm had gotten rid of some of the tension, but not enough. He rubbed the front of his trousers absently, contemplating the potential benefits of a second round. He doubted it would help much, not when the object of his affections – his lust, Crowley corrected himself, because demons weren’t supposed to have _affections_ – wasn’t there to participate, but it couldn’t hurt.

Crowley unzipped his trousers and wrestled them down his hips.

***

Crowley slammed himself deep and came with a muffled groan as he dug his teeth into Aziraphale’s shoulder. He released the bite and panted, pressing his forehead into Aziraphale’s neck as he felt himself soften inside the angel, cock dribbling a last few spurts of cum. “Wow,” he breathed. “That was…”

“I agree,” Aziraphale said, sounding both satisfied and entirely too proper for someone who had just been fucked within an inch of his life. He pet at Crowley’s hair, humming softly to himself. “You were very good.”

“Thanks?” Crowley pulled out with a wince, then miracled them both clean with a wave of his hand. He dropped onto the bed next to Aziraphale, turning onto his side so he could look at him. “You, ah, were good too.”

He never knew what to say, after. They’d been sleeping together for months now, ever since the world hadn’t really ended, and it was…well, it was good. The sex was good. Knowing that Aziraphale liked him back was good. Not having to worry about the angel Falling just because he happened to enjoy taking it up the arse from a demon was definitely good. But there was still something awkward about the whole thing. The first time, Crowley had chalked it up to the shift in their relationship from sort-of-friends-but-really-adversaries to actually-best-friends-separated-by-tragic-events-that-make-them-realize-their-true-feelings to maybe-more-than-best-friends to lovers in the span of just a few days. That was bound to make things awkward. But it had been months, and they’d gotten over all the other hurdles and things had smoothed out. So why hadn’t sex?

“You’re happy, right?” he asked Aziraphale, who had settled back against the pillows and closed his eyes with a contented sigh. When Aziraphale opened them to look questioningly at him, Crowley clarified, “With this, I mean. Our…sleeping arrangements.”

Aziraphale glanced at Crowley, then at the bed, and then back. He raised an eyebrow. “Your sheets are too slippery. You didn’t want to change them, so it’s only practical to use my bed.”

That wasn’t… “I meant sex, angel. How…how we have sex.” It took a lot of effort not to stutter over the word, and he couldn’t help blushing. He wasn’t sure what it was about Aziraphale that had him shying away from explicit words, other than the whole angel thing, but Crowley felt crass even when the context was fairly innocent.

Aziraphale didn’t have the same reservation. “I assure you, you fuck me very well, my dear,” he said, turning onto his side as well and taking Crowley’s hand so their joined fingers lay between them on the mattress. “You’ve got a lovely cock, and it feels very good inside me. I love the way you make me come.”

Crowley resisted the urge to cough. “Right. Yeah. Okay. Good.” He couldn’t form more sophisticated sentences than that. His cock, soft and spent, twitched with interest every time Aziraphale said something explicit.

Aziraphale cocked his head, brow furrowing slightly. “Are _you_ happy?” he asked.

“’Course!” Crowley said quickly. His grip on Aziraphale’s hand tightened slightly. “I love what we do. It’s great.”

The look Aziraphale levelled at him was not entirely new, although it was in this context. It was a look that said, “I know there’s something you’re not telling me,” and it said it in a tone that suggested there would be consequences if Crowley didn’t feel inclined to share. Usually those consequences were tirades of angelic righteousness, although Crowley suspected that under these circumstances, being made to kip on the sofa was more likely.

He sighed. “It’s nothing, really.”

“Clearly it isn’t.” Aziraphale’s expression was open, earnest. “You know you can tell me anything.”

“Yeah, I know.” Which somehow made it harder, not easier. He squirmed. “It’s not…it’s not something demons are supposed to want.”

“I rather think demons aren’t supposed to want angels,” Aziraphale pointed out. “At least, not like this.”

“Sex with angels is alright if you’re tempting them,” Crowley mumbled.

“But you aren’t. You love me,” Aziraphale preened. “And you’re changing the subject.”

Crowley groaned. He turned his face into the pillow, and his voice was muffled as he said, “I want you on top.”

“What was that, dear?”

“I said,” Crowley surfaced from the pillow, feeling mortified, “I want you on top.”

“You want me to…ride you? We’ve done that, but if you’d like-“

“That’s not what I mean,” Crowley interrupted. His hand was trembling in Aziraphale’s grip. His cheeks flushed with humiliation. “I want you to top me, angel. To pin me to the mattress and just…just really go to town.”

“Go to…?”

“Jesus, angel, I want you to bang me like a whore, alright? To shag me like a two-bit rent boy you’ve paid enough to do whatever you like with, and what you like isn’t very nice.” Crowley wanted to cry. He closed his eyes and bit out, “I want…I want you to fuck me like you’re trying to force the damnation out of me with your cock. Like…like I really am the adversary, and you’re claiming me as a victory for Heaven.”

A tear actually did leak out when the angel pulled his hand away. Then Crowley felt it cupping his cheek. “Oh, my dear,” Aziraphale murmured, enough anguish in his voice that Crowley opened his eyes, blinking back tears in shock. “How did I miss this?”

Crowley sniffled a little. He was aware he probably looked pathetic. “It’s not your fault. I didn’t…demons aren’t supposed to…”

Aziraphale drew him in, and Crowley buried his face in Aziraphale’s neck, body shuddering with barely repressed sobs. Aziraphale stroked his hair. “Shh,” he whispered. “It’s alright, my darling. I have you.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Crowley’s head. “I would never think badly of you for your desires. If this is something you want-“

“It is,” Crowley mumbled against Aziraphale’s collarbone.

“Then I don’t see why we can’t try it that way.” Aziraphale was still kissing him, peppering them anywhere his lips could reach. “I had assumed, given your propensity to shout and pin me against walls, that you’d want to be on top, and that was folly on my part. I should have asked.”

“Might not have told you,” Crowley admitted. There was something blooming inside him, something that squirmed and blushed at the idea of finally having the angel the way he wanted him – or rather, the idea that _Aziraphale_ would have him the way he wanted – but something that now believed it might really be possible. He peeked up at Aziraphale. “You’d really…?”

With a quick move, Aziraphale had Crowley on his back, and the demon blinked up in shock. His cock did more than twitch; it swelled slightly, perking up in interest. Aziraphale bracketed him with his arms, leaning down to kiss Crowley’s lips slowly, chaste and tender. “I would do anything for you,” he murmured. “And it would not be a hardship on my part to, ah, ‘bang you like a whore’?” There was mirth in his voice, and Crowley’s flush deepened.

“So, are we going to-“ Crowley’s question cut off as Aziraphale pressed their lips together, and this kiss was not gentle or sweet. It was hungry, the angel’s tongue forcing its way into his mouth like it belonged there, and Crowley moaned, melting against the mattress as arousal began to burn at him. He yelped when Aziraphale flipped him over, shoving his face against the pillows and hauling him up onto his knees.

“I noticed, you know,” Aziraphale said, conversationally, as if he wasn’t stroking Crowley’s bare arse, as if he wasn’t pulling the cheeks apart and running his thumb down the crack, pressing sharply into Crowley’s perineum until spots of colour burst behind the demon’s eyes. “You simply can’t keep those hips to yourself, can you? That was a message for me, wasn’t it, so desperate to have me inside you that your whole body begged me for it.” Aziraphale’s teeth scraped over the space between Crowley’s shoulder blades, and Crowley moaned, pressing his hips back, wiggling them enticingly.

A harsh smack had him crying out, his cock surging to full hardness and hanging, neglected, between his legs. “Please,” he whimpered. “ _Aziraphale_.”

Something thick and hot and hot pressed between his cheeks but didn’t enter him. Aziraphale’s breath puffed against his ear as the angel draped himself over Crowley, holding him fast with one arm wrapped around his stomach. The other hand pulled Crowley’s hips tighter against him, giving the angel more leverage to rut his cock against Crowley’s arse, teasing. “Do you like that I noticed?” Aziraphale purred, sounding amused. “Do you like that I saw your hips swaying, saw you shaking yourself at me like a slut, and imagined having you? That I scared myself, an angel, by wanting so badly to fuck a demon, so badly to give into the temptation, to have _this_ ,” he squeezed Crowley’s arse even tighter, ground against him even harder, “wrapped around my aching cock as I _took_ you for my own.”

“Yours,” Crowley agreed desperately. “Take me, Aziraphale, please, I’m yours.”

“I know you are.” Aziraphale released his hip to direct his cock, pressing it down until the head caught on Crowley’s hole. He rubbed it in circles as Crowley gasped at the sensation, his lips a grin against Crowley’s shoulder. “Do you want me to put it in?” he cooed. “Do you want me to fuck you like the dirty slut you are?”

“Oh fuck,” Crowley panted. “Yes, _yes_ , _please_.”

And without warning, Aziraphale slammed in. Crowley screamed, even as his body opened, the way miraculously slick and open, taking Aziraphale’s cock to the root without complaint. Aziraphale moaned in satisfaction, and without pausing withdrew and slammed in again, building up a rhythm that forced Crowley’s face into the pillows. Aziraphale’s arm around him was the only thing keeping Crowley’s hips up as the angel pounded into him, and Crowley sobbed into the pillow, spreading his knees wider and doing his best to press his hips back into every thrust.

“Is this what you wanted?” Aziraphale panted, pleasure coating each word as he ploughed Crowley’s arse, his fat cock forcing the demon to open for him with each slam of his hips. “Is this what you needed, what your body begged me for every time I watched you walk away from me?”

“ _Harder,_ ” Crowley pleaded. The word was muffled as he sank his teeth into the pillow beneath his head. His hands were shaking, scrabbling against the sheets for something, anything to hold onto, and when he reached back and grasped at Aziraphale’s hip, urging him on, his grip was tight and desperate. “ _Harder,_ please angel, _more._ ”

And Aziraphale obliged. Something shifted in the air – _his wings, oh fuck, Aziraphale had released his wings_ – and then there was even more force behind the thrusts, wind battering Crowley’s body as Aziraphale used his wings to aid him. Crowley cried and squirmed and tried to fuck back against it, but his hips were held fast by Aziraphale’s punishing hands, so tight they had to be leaving finger-shaped bruises on his skin. His arse _ached_ , his prostate screaming every time Aziraphale nailed it with his cock. His own cock was leaking, dribbling thick streams of precum against the bed, and he cried harder, unable to touch it, to get any friction as Aziraphale claimed him like an animal.

It was too good, too much. His whole body was a live wire and Aziraphale was the fuse, forcing him higher and higher, filling him with ecstasy until Crowley felt fit to burst. Blood thundered in his ears to the same beat of Aziraphale pounding him into the mattress, loud and overwhelming, drowning out everything else. Aziraphale shifted the angle, stabbed deeper, and Crowley screamed, his voice inhuman and foreign, and it was only then that he realized Aziraphale was talking.

“You’re positively gagging for it,” the angel hissed, his own voice strained with exertion, punctuated sharply by his thrusts. “You’re crying, darling, positively _sobbing_ , and it’s all for me, isn’t it, all because you’re finally getting what you deserve. You love it, you love me fucking you like a bitch in heat, like my cock is your only salvation. Can you come from this, my dear? Is it enough, my cock pounding into you like I own your arse, or do you need me to touch you?”

“D…don’t,” Crowley forced out. He didn’t think he could take it, his cock burning, his balls tight and aching against his body, so close to coming that it hurt. He hiccupped and sobbed and begged, “I’m close, angel, please.”

“I don’t care when you come,” Aziraphale snarled in his ear. “Because I’m going to keep using you, keep fucking this tight arse, this arse that _begged_ for me to fuck it, until I’m satisfied.” The force of his thrusts nearly knocked Crowley into the headboard, and the demon gasped and threw his hands out, bracing himself against the wood. He felt it creak and splinter a little under his hands, but he didn’t care. Aziraphale’s words were like fire, but he drank them in anyway. “You feel so good around me, do you know that? Filthy demon slut, desperate for my cock, and you take it so well.” Aziraphale groaned, his hips stuttering. He was on the edge, Crowley realized, just as wrecked as Crowley was, and Crowley whined, forcing himself to clench down, to tightened around his angel’s cock.

Aziraphale moaned, jackhammering into him with renewed vigour, and Crowley couldn’t stop himself. A particularly harsh stab to his prostate had him coming, his cock jerking and spilling across the mattress, each subsequent thrust more sensitive than the last, wringing every drop from his aching body. He slumped, going limp in Aziraphale’s grip, but Aziraphale didn’t stop. True to his word, he kept going, even when Crowley whimpered with sensitivity, even when he whined and squirmed and panted into the pillow. It took several more thrusts for Aziraphale to come, and when he did it was explosive, forcing his cock as deep as it would go and positively filling Crowley with bursts of hot cum.

There was silence for a minute, except for harsh breathing levelling out into something softer. Aziraphale let go, and Crowley collapsed into the mess he’d made of the sheets, his body completely boneless. He wouldn’t have been surprised to find himself suddenly in snake form: he couldn’t feel his arms or legs, although when he flexed his fingers he found them still clinging to broken shards of the headboard. He released them and buried his face deeper into the pillow, hot with his breath and damp with his tears.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale asked carefully. Crowley felt him pull out, and he reached back to catch the angel’s hand before Aziraphale could miracle anything away. The ache in his arse was _amazing_ , better than he’d anticipated, and he didn’t want it going anywhere yet.

“Do you know,” Crowley mumbled, his tongue unwieldy in his mouth, “that I’ve been wanting to do that for _centuries_?”

“Um…”

“Seriously, angel. Been wanking to the thought of you fucking me like that for hundreds of years.” He turned his head to the side and squinted one eye open. It took a lot of effort, but it meant he could see the angel, sitting behind him, looking uncertain. His wings were still out. Crowley patted the mattress beside him, and Aziraphale drew in his wings and gingerly laid down. “Used to embarrass me,” Crowley told him, closing his eyes again. “You’d be so infuriatingly _you_ , and I’d go home so horny and desperate that I’d hump my bed or a pillow or whatever until I came, just absolutely gagging for your cock.” He rolled onto his side and hissed as it sparked at the soreness in his body. Aziraphale was watching him carefully. “Figured if you weren’t getting the memo with the ‘come fuck me’ hips, you were a lost cause.”

“Well…” Aziraphale blushed. His brow furrowed. “You are alright, though? I was a little rougher than I’d intended.”

“You were _perfect_ ,” Crowley smiled lazily, slurring the words a little. “When you brought out the wings? Thought I’d come on the spot.” He tilted his head a little. “Did you like it?”

“I did.”

“Mmm. Good. We should do it again then. But not right now,” he added. He cleaned the wet spot with a thought – although everything else he left the same – and then curled into the angel. Aziraphale wrapped tender arms around him and kissed his forehead softly. Crowley hummed happily. “I love you,” he murmured, wiggling a little to get comfortable. “And I’m glad I told you.”

“Me as well,” Aziraphale said, and gave him another kiss. “And I love you too.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Come Fuck Me Hips](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20482043) by [Gorillazgal86](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gorillazgal86/pseuds/Gorillazgal86)




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